The Dreams That Dream Me

from the land of dreams in the misty island. Or, alternatively, from the flat above a shop on the Kentish Town Road, amidst the shouts of the midnight drunks and the police sirens.

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

outside

She was sitting outside, she had a large black box that looked like some sort of gadget; a radio, or an instrument amplifier. She was beautiful that morning, in a blue jumper and her hair cascading over a red scarf. I went in the building -I had to continue dreaming my previous dream, needed some resolution to the travel thing in it. When I came out, she wasn't there, but she'd left the box. I touched it and it came to life with a talk BBC radio program or something similar. Then she came out and I was embarrassed. She clearly was not happy to see me but was trying not to show it. I said to her it was lovely, lovely to see her but I had to go, maybe it would be good to see her some place else other than a dream. She stared at me, her lips now very thin. No point in me staying there so I woke up in mid-morning, feeling washed up on a strange beach, the surf and the sand getting to me, the glare of the sun and the sand a bit too much. Better to really wake up, then and hope it is not another layer of dream with something beautiful, something red, something disappointing in it.

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